


Plagiarism

by kimbleefucker (hihowareya)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: M/M, mentions of past royblee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 07:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15944768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hihowareya/pseuds/kimbleefucker
Summary: “Wouldn't that be romantic? To die together like this, in a not-so-metaphorical blaze of glory?”“Romantic isn't the word I would use, but if it'll stop another genocide like that from happening, you can call it whatever you want.”





	Plagiarism

Scrambling up to his feet again, Roy braced himself against the brick wall of the alley he'd been herded into. He bit his cheek when he was roughly thrown against it, and the taste of iron slowly greeted his tongue. He shot a glare to his assailant, standing casually between him and his only escape route. 

“Is this why they let you out of prison? Some sort of assassination...?” Roy wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, taking with it a bit of blood that spilled over his lip and leaving a smirk in it's wake. “Is the Fuhrer really that nervous about me and my team?”

“On the contrary,” Kimblee began, his arms folding across his chest “my release may have been at the Fuhrer's behest, but I'm here of my own accord.” 

“So you just missed me that much?” Roy did his best to allow his stance to fall into something more casual, though he was prepared to attack at any sign of aggression. His old comrade (though a term he used loosely) seemed to consider him for a moment then spoke again finally.

“Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist and eventual Hero of Ishval. Boasting the most impressive kill count from the war, the savior of Amestris. It doesn't take a lot of scouring to find any documentation that would shower you with praise like this- and yet, only half of it is true.” He stood in place, but Roy could tell he was resisting the urge to pace as he spoke, something he'd learned about him in the war; Kimblee never seemed to lecture in place. “Perhaps the second most impressive kill count, but certainly not the first.”

“Is that all? You came here to complain about the military's lackluster bookkeeping?” 

“Maybe that's all it means to you, but how would you feel if someone else was given credit for your hard work?” Roy could tell the point he circled around now, what this was all about.

“I wouldn't be at all concerned if the 'hard work' that was credited to someone else was acts of murder.” At Roy's dismissive comment Kimblee hastily approached him in motion uncharacteristic of his usual casual saunter. He splayed his hands on either side of the Flame alchemist against the wall, only an inch below eye level, though it didn't stop him from looking up to meet Roy's gaze. 

“While you were showered with accolades and praise, I was left to rot there, to be completely forgotten.” Though his expression was fairly neutral, Roy could tell from the vitriol seeping into his tone that his agitation was rising. He'd never known Kimblee to be a jealous man, he never seemed to care much for the titles or praise they gave him during the war, but maybe that's because it was actively being given to him instead of wrongfully taken away. “You left with an enviable title and rank to match- and yet, did really really earn any of it?” 

Roy steadied himself and looked at Kimblee with conviction. 

“You made that decision. You killed those officers, you surrendered yourself. And for what? For fun? This is no one's fault but your own. You were impulsive and you suffered for it- there's nothing I could have done to change that.”

“Oh I don't blame you, I don't think you demanded that notoriety, but you still took it. I didn't think that by killing those men my entire existence would be erased, like I'd never set foot in that bloody sand pit to begin with.” At that there was a flicker in his dark blue eyes that made Roy feel like he would have stepped back further, if he wasn't already pressed against the wall. “And here I thought the Flame Alchemist was all abut honor and virtue, yet here you are doing whatever it takes to get what you want. Maybe we're not so different after all.”

The very idea of the comparison made Roy's stomach turn, to be compared to someone like Kimblee. Roy was accustomed to Kimblee's lectures, he endured many of them in Ishavl, though normally Kimblee was beneath him when he decided it was time for one.

“You're willing to take whatever you need, just for that. But even if no one else does, you'll always know you never got here on your own merit. You don't have guts to do what it takes to-” Kimblee swallowed his words when Roy's gloved hand was poised to snap at any moment, only a small amount of space between them. 

“You're right, I am willing to do what it takes, and if that means taking out the two most prominent murderers of Ishval, I'll do it.” Kimblee considered him for a moment then moved one of his hands to press against Roy's shoulder. Even through his uniform, he could feel a burning from the array on Solf's palm, like he was ready to ignite at any moment. He'd felt Kimblee's hands on him this way many times before, grabbing his shoulders or laced around his neck, but never had he felt the genuine danger emanating from them like he did now. 

“Wouldn't that be romantic? To die together like this, in a not-so-metaphorical blaze of glory?”

“Romantic isn't the word I would use, but if it'll stop another genocide like that from happening, you can call it whatever you want.”

Kimblee laughed in a way that Roy almost felt was genuine, and pulled his hands back to his sides. “Will you never humor me? Even after all this time?”

“Never.”


End file.
